


Cafe au Lait

by Indig0



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Other characters mentioned - Freeform, Shy RK900, Upgraded Connor | RK900 Has a Different Name, coffee shop AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:40:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23277244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Indig0/pseuds/Indig0
Summary: It was all right, he reasoned as he wiped some crumbs from the cookie plate.  He liked Simon.  He liked Markus.  He enjoyed talking to them both.  What was important was that they were happy, and he would be happy with what he had.  It sounded like a cover, like some sort of repression, but he believed it wholeheartedly.  He had a loving brother and father, he had a couple of friends to talk to.  He was happy with that.Maybe just a little heartsick, but happy all the same.
Relationships: Markus & Simon (Detroit: Become Human), Upgraded Connor | RK900 & Markus, Upgraded Connor | RK900 & Simon, Upgraded Connor | RK900/Simon
Comments: 8
Kudos: 40





	Cafe au Lait

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Archadian_Skies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archadian_Skies/gifts).



When Markus looked up from the cup, the new barista was watching him. Rowan. He didn’t talk much, but he had an intense focus that might be intimidating in some situations.

“Oh, I’m just doing some foam art,” Markus said, eyeing him. “Not on the menu, but… I like to do it for some of the regulars.”

The taller man nodded once, his expression impassive. He always looked cold, calculating, and judgmental but Markus was beginning to realize that it was just his face. He seemed to analyze everything around him.

“Your lines are very precise,” he said, and Markus wasn’t sure if it was admiration or something else in his voice.

“Thank you! They tend to spread with time, so they have to start out as perfect as possible.” He smiled a little. “I get off soon, but I can show you some time when it’s slow.”

Rowan’s eyebrows rose slightly. “…Thank you.”

Markus nodded to him with a smile, and carried the mug out to the dining area where a blond man sat hunched over an empty mug, wrapped in a heavy coat. Rowan watched as he looked up with a soft smile that lit up his whole face. He exclaimed over the drink, and Markus bent to point something out. 

The customer laughed. It was soft and maybe a little breathless. His hands wrapped around the mug, and his eyes were tired but fond.

It was only a small, casual moment, but the feeling of looking in on warmth and intimacy from outside was one Rowan was familiar with.

“Could you… show me how to do that?” he asked distantly when Markus came back behind the counter.

“Sure – it’s not too hard, I can show you tomorrow. You can even do some with just a milk pitcher, but the machine makes it easier.”

“Thank you,” Rowan murmured quietly. Markus grabbed his jacket and left, and Rowan kept an eye on the customer. There were a few others who came and left, a few sitting at other tables, but none whose faces were quite so inviting. Rowan took out his phone and started looking up foam art. He tried out the machine, but it wasn’t anywhere near as easy as Markus made it sound. After a while he gave up on that and tried some of the milk-pouring techniques. It all sank at first, and by the end of the night he only managed to make a few uneven blobs on the surface.

“Excuse me.”

Rowan looked up sharply to find the blond man smiling politely from across the counter. “Ah – can I… help you?”

“Yes, could I please get a lemon tart and a chocolate croissant to go?”

Rowan carefully bagged up the pastries, and when he turned back the man was leaning over the counter a bit, looking at his latest attempt at latte art.

“I’ve tried to make these too, I don’t know how Markus does it,” he murmured regretfully.

Rowan set the bag on the counter, unsure how to reply. He took the payment and handed over the bag.

“Well, have a good night.” The blonde smiled a little and left with his baked goods. It was a different smile, a little more guarded, less familiar.

Maybe in time it would grow more open, warmer. It was nice to think about as Rowan closed for the night.

The following day was busier, but Markus promised to show Rowan how to make foam art another time.

“I tried last night,” the taller barista admitted, making a face.

“Didn’t go so well?” Markus grinned. “It takes practice, that’s all.”

“Do you do it… often?”

“Just for a few of the regulars, when I have time. Simon, from last night. North. Lucy. Sometimes Josh.”

Over the next few weeks Rowan encountered each of the regulars Markus referred to, and got a chance to learn how to use the machine. His designs were simple though, and he couldn’t seem to master the pictures and patterns that Markus produced easily. He certainly didn’t want to follow those up with one of his disasters.

“You’re getting better!” Simon said one night when he came up to the register. He always bought two pastries to take home with him.

“Ah – thank you,” Rowan mumbled, pulling the mug with a simple snowflake design on the foam closer to him.

“It’s better than I could do, anyway.” Simon smiled, and Rowan glanced up in time to see that it had grown a little warmer.

Markus was patient and encouraging in the face of Rowan’s pessimism, and while there was clear improvement, the art wasn’t up to Rowan’s exacting standards. Markus asked him to make one now and then anyway, and he slowly became accustomed to the other regulars. Markus talked and laughed with them, and Rowan watched from afar.

He sometimes wished he could resent Markus, just a little. He was certainly envious of how good his boss was with people, with art, with everything. He could switch easily from passionate arguments to laughing with both North and Josh. With Lucy and Simon the sharp edges softened without dulling the wit. And that was it, he always knew what to say in any situation. And he was smart and creative and interesting, kind and thoughtful… He had time for everyone, and more than anything, Rowan admired that.

Markus’s favorite regulars were all nice to Rowan, but that was for Markus’s sake. When he tried to strike up a conversation with others, they brushed him off and walked away. Or took offense, and then he had to quickly backtrack and apologize for his words, his demeanor, his attempts.

“How are you tonight?” he asked Simon as he rang up a double chocolate muffin top and a cherry turnover.

“Pretty good. What about you?”

“I’m all right.”

Simon paused. “…You look like something’s bothering you, but I won’t pry. You get off soon, hopefully that’ll help!”

Rowan looked up and felt a sharp pang in his chest.

“…Are you okay?”

Rowan grimaced. “I’m fine,” he muttered, distracted by Simon’s eyes and his attentiveness. “It’s difficult to talk to people,” he blurted out after a moment, and looked away to grab a towel and clutch it tightly.

“I know how you feel,” Simon admitted, leaning on the counter. “My brother’s better at that kind of thing than I am.”

Rowan smiled tentatively. “My brother… is the same.” He paused, then brightened when he thought of something to say. “Are you older or younger?”

“We’re twins, but I’m a few minutes younger,” Simon said with an answering smile. “He overreacts to things sometimes, but he’s talented, personable, and confident. Vibrant. I feel like… like he’s all bright colors, and I’m just… grayscale.”

“Grayscale makes for a stronger distinction,” Rowan said immediately. “…Between light and shadow. And a more elegant overall effect. You aren’t… dull, you’re clear.”

Simon’s eyes widened and Rowan watched him, waiting for a response. That had been a strange thought to voice, he should have just kept his mouth shut…

“Thank you,” Simon said softly. “That’s… I’d never thought of it that way before.”

“You aren’t… lesser,” Rowan muttered, running Simon’s credit card.

“What’s your brother like?”

“Two years older. Though we look nearly identical. He’s… friendly and intelligent… Talented, personable, and confident, as you said.” Rowan shook his head. “He means more to me than anyone else, I can’t hold it against him, but… I wish I had his… charisma.”

“Well… just because you’re not talkative doesn’t mean you’re hopeless.” Simon smiled. “Or that you’re not likeable.”

Uncertainty twisted over Rowan’s face, but finally gave way to a faint smile. Simon’s smile widened, and Rowan hadn’t felt so warm in a long time.

“Work going well?”

“Quite well,” Rowan murmured, scrubbing the crock pot in the sink. Connor came over and bumped him.

“Will you be off on Saturday? Hank would love to see you at lunch.”

“Won’t it be more like breakfast for him?” Rowan smirked.

“It’ll do him good to get up before noon. …Though I fully expect him to be asleep when we go pick him up.”

The younger brother smiled a little. “How have you been, Connor?”

“Pretty good. Work’s busy, but I like it that way. Chris says I’m doing good work, so I’ll have to trust his judgment.” Connor grinned. “Gavin tried to start another fight with me, but I managed to make him look like an idiot, and Captain Fowler was watching so he couldn’t do anything about it. He was furious!”

“If I ever meet this Gavin, I’d like to pour hot coffee down his back,” Rowan said thoughtfully. Connor laughed. “…It sounds like you’re doing well there. I know Hank’s proud of you.”

Connor’s smile softened a little, and he nudged Rowan gently. “You know he’s proud of you too. You’re following your own path, and he respects that about you.”

“…He says that, but I can’t help but feel like… I’ve disappointed them sometimes,” Rowan confessed quietly as he counted his drawer. Simon nodded, fiddling with his nightly bag of pastries.

“I guess that’s normal when you’re expected to… continue the family business, but you do something else,” he said slowly. “Daniel and I… well, it was less about careers, and more about… lifestyle, politics, personality… He had a big breakdown when we left home. I was never as… outwardly emotional, but I made up my mind and stuck to it. It was hard, but… when you can, I think it’s much better to stick to… what’s right for you.”

Rowan nodded, slowly pushing the drawer back in. “Our… well… Connor and I were in a foster home for… many years. The woman who raised us was… very demanding. Nothing was given freely or unconditionally, everything had to be earned. We always talked about living on our own when we were old enough. Then we were adopted when I was 13 and he was 15. We didn’t expect much more than a change of scenery, but Hank… really has been a father to us. We’re lucky. …Which is why it feels a bit like a betrayal.”

“Does he see it that way?” Simon asked, frowning.

“No. Not that he’s expressed. He’s very supportive, but… sometimes I feel like he’s saying what he feels he has to.”

“Have you talked to Connor about it?”

“Yes. He assures me Hank’s sincere, but…”

“Do you think _he_ would lie about that? Even to save your feelings?”

Rowan paused. “…No. Connor’s always been honest with me.”

Simon watched him closely.

“I know I’m… worrying unnecessarily,” Rowan muttered.

“I don’t think so. It’s just… how you react. You know the important people are there for you no matter what, but if that hasn’t always been the case… it makes sense that you’d worry. I know how you feel.”

Rowan frowned slightly.

“Back when things were bad for us, I used to worry that I was underreacting because… honestly, without Daniel, I probably would have just kept my head down and stuck it out. …And been miserable for the rest of my life. And he worried he was overreacting, because since the fight the rest of our family’s basically dead to us. And I guess we were both right, but that’s just how we are. Neither’s really the best coping mechanism, but… that’s how we each deal with things. There’s no going back, and we’re okay now. ”

Impulsively, Rowan put his hand over Simon’s. They looked into each other’s eyes for a long moment.

Then Simon pulled his hand back just a bit, but enough that Rowan withdrew his completely. “…Sorry, I realize that had nothing to do with what you were actually saying. I got carried away.”

“No – it’s all right,” Rowan assured him quickly. “I… appreciate your trust.”

“And I appreciate yours.” Simone smiled up at him warmly. “I haven’t talked about that in a while.”

“I… haven’t mentioned it to anyone but Connor before,” Rowan admitted.

“Well… if you ever want to talk, I’d be glad to. Or just to listen.” Simon rubbed his hands together as if warming them, or keeping them in place, and Rowan sharply wished he hadn’t pulled away.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, instead of taking Simon’s hand again, instead of instantly affirming that he wanted that more than anything. “If… if you ever… I would be happy to talk to you, or to listen, any time.”

Simon smiled and nodded to him and left with his pastries, one for himself and one for his brother. Rowan slowly closed up for the night with a full mind and a full heart.

“Could I ask your opinion on something?”

Simon looked up and smiled at Markus. “Of course, what is it?”

“Hold on…” Markus ducked into the little break area in the back and pulled out a sketchbook, flipping through and opening it to a piece formed of different shades of blue. There was an indistinct figure in the middle with a bright core and a circle behind it, fading into almost black around the edges.

“That’s… that’s very powerful,” Simon said in a hushed voice.

“I do a lot of painting with my dad… He has a big studio and likes massive canvases, and I’d love to try some mural work, but most of the time I keep it smaller.”

“Have you thought about a mural on the wall here?” Simon asked. “That would look amazing.”

“I hoped you’d think so.” Markus grinned briefly. “Inside or outside?”

“Oh… I was thinking inside – right there next to the door – but it would make a strong statement outside too.”

“I was kind of thinking that too, to draw people in.” Markus paused. “Do you recognize the color there?” He gestured to the glowing circle around the figure.

Simon leaned in to look closer. “It’s… hm… I’m afraid not.”

“Well… I guess you don’t look at your own eyes too often.”

Simon’s head whipped up, and his face flushed instantly. “What?”

“Just… you’re always here, kind of watching over the place –“

Simon blinked, face completely red now.

“Oh, I – I didn’t mean that to come off creepy, I’m sorry –“

“N-no, I just… I wasn’t… Sorry. I… didn’t think about… my eye color. Who’s the person?” Simon asked quietly, trying to regain his composure.

“Oh, it’s… just kind of a representation of humanity,” Markus mumbled. He hadn’t had anyone in mind. He didn’t mention how the bright core was the same color as the glowing circle.

“I thought it might be you. …He stands the same way you do.” Simon pointed to the way the figure leaned slightly to one side. He also didn’t point out the core.

“I… didn’t even think about that.” Markus laughed softly.

“Do you feel like I’m always here watching you, Markus?” Simon asked with a grin, though his face was still red.

“No, I –“ Markus sighed and rubbed his face. “I honestly didn’t mean it that way.”

“How… did you mean it, then?”

“Just… you’re always here, and it’s… it’s good to have you here. You’re a grounding presence.”

Simon was quiet for a long moment, staring at the picture. “Thank you,” he finally murmured softly.

When Rowan came into work, he saw Markus’s sketchbook open to the blue page. The color of Simon’s eyes was unmistakable, and clearly Markus had done some careful blending to get the exact hue. The café wasn’t busy and Markus was over talking to Simon. He waved and they both smiled, and Rowan nodded in return.

As he checked behind the counter, wiping spills, cleaning equipment, checking levels of coffees and creamers and such, he glanced up again. Not for the first time, he noticed small things in both Markus and Simon’s expressions. The increased intensity, the strong eye contact, the curl of the smile, the tilt of the heads and leaning towards each other slightly. The soft tones.

Rowan knew he wasn’t good at this sort of thing, but he wasn’t blind.

It was all right, he reasoned as he wiped some crumbs from the cookie plate. He liked Simon. He liked Markus. He enjoyed talking to them both. What was important was that they were happy, and he would be happy with what he had. It sounded like a cover, like some sort of repression, but he believed it wholeheartedly. He had a loving brother and father, he had a couple of friends to talk to. He was happy with that.

Maybe just a little heartsick, but happy all the same.

“Did you see the mural?” Markus asked, coming back behind the counter and pointing to the sketchbook. “I’m thinking about painting it on the side of the building.”

“I think that would look good,” Rowan said appreciatively. “I like it.”

“Thanks.” Markus smiled, charming and vibrant. “It’ll take a while to get things together, but would you want to help?”

Rowan blinked. “I – I’m not an artist, I…”

“No, I know, but we’ll need to paint the wall with primer first to make a good clean surface to paint over. No pressure at all, you don’t have to if you’d rather not.”

“Oh. Yes, I can do that.” Rowan’s expression lightened a bit and he straightened up a bit. “I’d be glad to help.”

The coffee shop closed after lunch on Sundays, and Rowan offered to prime and paint the wall once they got the supplies.

“Don’t feel like you need to finish it, just do as much as you want,” Markus said as he left. Rowan nodded and brought the buckets, rollers, and trays outside. They had sprayed the wall clean with the hose that morning, and now the bricks were clean and ready to be painted. Rowan poured primer into a tray, rolled the roller through it, and got started. It was a nice day, and it was peaceful to stand there and coat the wall.

When he heard footsteps he paused to look behind him. Simon walked up slowly. He couldn’t help a faint smile.

“I closed up, but I can get you something if you want,” he offered quietly. “Markus went home to spend the afternoon with his father.”

“Oh no, don’t worry about it. I was hoping you’d still be here, actually. Do you mind if I hang around for a while?”

Rowan had gone back to rolling paint on the wall, but stopped and looked back at Simon again. “Of course not. You’re always welcome.”

“…I come so often because I generally feel that way. But I thought I’d ask.” Simon slowly walked up behind him.

“Well it’s good to see you,” Rowan murmured, and then turned back to touch up the primer in a few spots.

“It’s good to see you too. I might be imagining things, but you’ve seemed a little distant lately.”

“I’m always distant,” Rowan chuckled softly.

Simon’s shoulder bumped his arm. “No you’re not. You put off kind of a… distant vibe at first, but… when I talk to you you’re always completely present, you pay close attention to everything, you’re really… intense.”

“…I know,” Rowan murmured, ducking his head a bit. “I try to tone it down, I –“

“Don’t,” Simon cut him off. “It’s absolutely not a bad thing, don’t… try to make yourself less. You’re intense, that’s just you. And it’s good.”

Rowan’s expression softened, and he smiled a bit. He set the roller down in the empty pan. “This needs to dry… can I get you anything? On the house.”

Simon tilted his head thoughtfully. “…I’ll have what you’re having.”

A few minutes later the pair sat under a tree with two big cups of hibiscus iced tea and a bag of broken cookies.

“The wall’s looking good,” Simon said, and brushed some crumbs from his shirt.

“It’s my best work,” Rowan said flatly.

Simon looked at him, at the blank wall, and back at him. He burst out laughing. “The piece you’ll be remembered for for hundreds of years!”

“My masterpiece.” Rowan couldn’t hold back his wide smile any longer.

Simon threw his head back laughing, then leaned in to laugh on Rowan’s shoulder. “The culmination of your life’s work!”

Rowan started laughing too, and leaned into Simon almost immediately. It was just… ridiculous and warm, and it seemed like an invisible weight lifted from his heart. They both just laughed for a few minutes, stopping briefly only to start again.

“I… I’ve never heard you really laugh before,” Simon said when he could finally speak, wiping his eyes and still grinning.

“I haven’t heard you laugh like that either,” Rowan shot back.

“…That’s fair,” Simon agreed, smiling. “I like it, though.”

“I – thank you. I like… I like yours too.” Rowan opened his mouth and closed it again, his smile gradually fading. “…Simon. Can I ask you a personal question? Something… awkward?”

“I think you can.” Simon’s grin sharpened briefly, but then softened again. “Go ahead.”

“Are you… do you have…” He paused and shook his head. “What exactly is… your relationship with Markus?”

Simon blinked. “My – oh. Um. Well I think I’m his most frequent customer.”

“I think you’re right, though not by a great margin.”

“Those morning regulars.” Simon nodded. “I – I consider him a friend, though we only see each other here.”

Rowan’s eyes widened. “Really? I –“

Simon smiled. “You know I’ve thought of asking you the same thing? Sometimes you’re just polite and professional, but sometimes… I mean, it’s impossible not to get caught up in his magnetism, isn’t it?”

Rowan stared at him.

“I… I like Markus a lot. He’s… a little like Daniel, but a lot more. Just so charismatic, energetic, creative, talented… one of those people who just… seems good at everything.”

“But not… not in a way that you’d hold against him at all,” Rowan murmured.

“No, not a bit, because he’s a genuinely good person, isn’t he?” Simon leaned in again.

“He is,” Rowan agreed solemnly.

“People are just… drawn to him. And he doesn’t even realize it, I think, he’s just that charming. …Daniel thinks he does it on purpose, but he doesn’t know him very well.”

“I… You thought I had feelings for Markus?” Rowan asked, still stuck on that.

Simon laughed softly. “Not really, but… just the way you look at him once in a while, and you’re so earnest and attentive anyway, that just makes it more believable. I’ll take that as a no, though.”

“No,” Rowan agreed, shaking his head dismissively. “But… then you don’t… either?”

“I think… I could. I’ve thought about it from time to time. But like I said, that’s just how he is. To everyone. I like to think I’m not selfish, I don’t need someone all to myself all the time. But… sharing the person I pour my heart and soul into with the entire world is… a little much, I think. For me.” He took a long drink of tea.

Rowan nodded slowly. “That’s… understandable.” He paused. "You're... you're not grayscale. You're... bright and vibrant and... full of color."

They were quiet for a while, finishing their tea and nibbling bits of cookie while Simon tried to fight against the color flooding his face.

“I don’t want to take away from your free time,” Simon murmured after a while. “But… would you have any interest in… er… going out… to do something some time?” he finished in a rush.

Rowan turned to stare as if he’d never seen Simon before.

“If not, that’s perfectly fine,” Simon continued quickly. “I don’t –“

“Yes,” Rowan interrupted, grabbing Simon’s shoulder. “I – I’d like – y-you… yes.” He swallowed hard, eyes darting away for a second before coming back. “Are… I need to finish… painting this wall. At least one more coat. The primer should be dry now. …Then I have time. If… you’re available now. If you’d like.”

“I would.” Simon smiled, slipping an arm through Rowan’s. “I’d like that very much.”


End file.
